


Four Seasonings

by diefleder_tey



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefleder_tey/pseuds/diefleder_tey
Summary: Ignis and Gladio have known each other most of their lives.  There are some constants: their duty, their prince, each other.  And food.  There is always food, bringing them closer and closer together as the years go by.





	Four Seasonings

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, you know who, who is always by my side and helps me do silly things when I get the whim to do them.
> 
> Regis and Clarus make cameo appearances, but in such a small capacity I didn't think it was worthwhile tagging them. 
> 
> I marked both M/M and Gen because I think you can reasonably read it either way, depending on your preference. It's just a short little fluffy thing.

**Teenaged Thyme**

Ignis adjusted his stance and rethought his plan. At the time of its inception, this seemed like the right thing to do. Now it was too late, and he felt the thick residue of dread sliding through his chest down to his stomach. It was the wrong plan and there was nothing left to do but wait for the disaster in front of him to finish unfolding.

Summer was in full effect, the dense sound of cicadas accompanying each bothersome drop of sweat that rolled down the back of his neck. Rolled sleeves - rolling up his sleeves would have been the smart thing, given what he was doing. But no, for some reason reason itself had left Ignis and here he was in black slacks and a long sleeve shirt, waiting for someone to answer the door on the hottest day of summer, with a dish of vegetable stew cradled in the curve of the hot pads in his hands.

He was debating knocking on the front door of the Amicitia manor a third time - or would that be bad manners - when finally he heard the movement of the latch and knob. He had expected the Amicitia's assistant - a Mr. Hester, Ignis recalled - to greet him from behind the door, and was somewhat unpleasantly surprised to see that said assistant clearly had the day off.

Ignis cleared his throat quietly. "Gladiolus."

Gladio had been asleep - that much was very evident. His hair was askew and his boxers were rumpled and barely hanging on his hips. The eldest heir of the line of Royal Shields was bleary-eyed, unshaven, and not terribly amused to find out the source of his awakening was a coworker at his door. A coworker he knew well and was fond of, but a coworker with a tight and neutral expression to match his professional attire and perfectly combed hair and clean glasses. 

Gladio sighed. "Yeah?"

Ignis had to find his bearings. "The Marshall informed me that you had been feeling poorly lately. With your father out of town on business with the King, I thought you might appreciate having a meal delivered-"

Gladio eyed the dish in Ignis' hands, which the other had started to hold out in offer, and he interrupted with a bit of a grunt. "'At's Jared's job," he muttered.

"Ah, yes, well." He wasn't sure if it was worth belaboring the point that clearly said assistant wasn't available at the moment.

"Thanks," Gladio said, holding out his hands and taking the stew. 

Ignis wasn't going to wait for a response. He nodded his head slightly when he was assured the dish had transferred hands safely. "My apologies for waking you. The stew can be warmed up later if you need to continue resting." 

He turned to leave and Gladio's next move confirmed his suspicion: this was a bad plan. A terrible plan. He would have to shove the shame of conceiving such poor tactics deep into the recesses of his psyche, where he hoped to forever bury other such embarrassing moments, like the start of puberty and the first time he had nearly caused a fender-bender in one of the Royal vehicles during his driving lessons.

Gladio's next move had been to sigh and call out, "Stew? In summer? Ignis, what the hell?"

What the hell, indeed. He knew a hot dish, let alone a stew, in the middle of a punishing summer, drowning in brightness and melting humidity, was fairly silly. But it was one of his best dishes. Ignis could make it without much thought and at this stage could produce a winner without even glancing at a written recipe. And besides, nothing relieved nasal congestion like a hot soup. It was what he liked to make for himself on those days when he woke up feeling a little under the weather - his sinuses clogged and his throat scratchy. He was getting better at cooking, but nothing else in his repertoire seemed quite appropriate and illness was the worst time to experiment with new flavors. He knew it wasn't the most sensible, but it was the best option and he had convinced himself it was prudent to see it through. After all, he had to do something.

He prepared to apologize, but Gladio decided to interrupt again. "Sorry, that sounded really bratty. Uh, thanks for thinking of me. You didn't have to do this." He raised it in his hands in a nod of appreciation, catching a whiff of the steam coming off of the stew in the process. "Wow, that smells really good."

Ignis' shoulders relaxed and he gave a slight smile. "You're welcome, Gladiolus. I hope to see you at the training facility next week."

"Yeah, sure. Night."

The front door clicked shut quietly and it wasn't long before Ignis was inside the car, clicking his seatbelt into place. He lingered before starting the ignition, looking at the wood on the door of the Amicitia manor. He took a deep breath and said aloud, to someone who clearly wouldn't hear it, "You don't remember, do you?"

***

**Roadtrip Rosemary**

"Woohoo! We're alive! Let's celebrate by eating something dead!"

Gladio rolled his shoulder, and his eyes. Normally he would agree 100% with Prompto's sentiments toward meat, but "alive" in this case was a little relative. Blondie was intact with little more than some collateral battle dirt on his clothes. Gladio, on the other hand, had taken the brunt of the coeurl's attacks.

As Prompto and Noct excitedly discussed their excellence in stomping kitty cat butt on their way back to the Regalia, Gladio groaned and tried his best to stretch out every muscle he had.

"Potion?" Ignis asked.

Gladio almost jumped. He hadn't heard or seen the other man coming up beside him. Ignis' hair was out of place and his shirt was clearly ripped. There were definitely going to be a few cuts and bruises when he inspected his muscles later. It made Gladio smile; at least someone else knew what it felt like to do all the heavy lifting in the group.

"Nah, it's fine. Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix."

"Or, a hot bath," Ignis suggested. "We've been camping for eight days straight, and the hotel at Taelpar is reasonable and not too terribly out of our way."

Gladio grunted a laugh. "And spend the gil? You get hit in the head too, Iggy?"

"Come now," he answered. "When we have extra money set aside, it doesn't hurt to put a little extra effort into self care. Besides, if I had hit my head, a hot bath would be the perfect remedy, would it not?"

"Who wrote your field medicine guide? Noct?" Gladio shook his head. "Nah, camping's fine."

"Then, for my own sake, how about a compromise? There's a caravan at Cauthess."

Gladio stopped for a moment and thought about it. Yeah, Cauthess was at least in the right direction. And by driving straight to the rest area, they'd be able to settle in and down faster than if they drove and hiked out to Fallaughns Haven. He looked at Ignis and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Good," Ignis replied, his tone light and a slight smile on his face. "I already have something in mind for dinner."

"The kids are gonna want takeout."

"Well then, it's a good thing we spent all of our extra funds on lodging at the caravan, isn't it?" Ignis' tone was serious, and someone who knew him less well would assume he was just as serious as that tone suggested. But Gladio noticed the slight glint in his eye and the subtle curl to the corners of his mouth. Clearly, Ignis had already been working on a plan to put a pause in their recent marathon of camping. Maybe he had something different in mind to suggest earlier that morning, but along came a coeurl - or three, maybe, it had been a flurry of fur and slashes and lightning strikes - and now the perfect opportunity had presented itself.

The sun was starting to set as they reached Cauthess and Gladio caught himself clicking his tongue in annoyance. Even if Ignis hadn't had ulterior motives in suggesting the caravan, it ended up being the wisest plan anyway.

Prompto immediately ran off to the Crow's Nest - to catalog another entry in his collection of Kenny Crow statue photographs, of course. Noct lost every ounce of energy that he had before the drive and stumbled onto the bed in the caravan, face first. Ignis held out his hand, offering Gladio first dibs on the shower. "I'll start working on dinner," he explained.

Gladio wasn't going to argue.

He stripped down quickly and squeezed into the tiny corner that contained the so called shower. Luckily he could close the door - there had been a caravan or two they encountered where the width was so small he ended up popping out the door every time he tried to turn. His shoulder hurt. His eyes hurt. His hamstrings really hurt. After inspection, he didn't have much more than a few scrapes, but the promise of future bruises ached through his muscles. 

By the time he was turning the shower off, the smell of a specific blend of herbs was starting to waft into his air. It was a familiar smell, though one he didn't get to experience as much as he might have liked. 

He pushed open the door and stuck his head out, looking down the short hallway to where Ignis was busy at the tiny kitchen counter. "That smells amazing," he bellowed.

"Towel, please," Ignis reminded him. "Noct's in the bedroom behind you."

"Huh?" Gladio glanced down. Oh yeah - sticking his head out in such a tiny space basically meant sticking out half of his naked body too. He grabbed for a towel and held it against his hip, effectively blocking the view with the least amount of effort. "I'm starving."

"Unfortunately, you'll have to wait at least an hour or so," Ignis replied. "But I could whip up something small as an appetizer."

Gladio walked up behind him, sloppily holding the towel around his waist. Prompto would be back any minute, too - not that he really cared. But if he had come into the cooking area naked, Ignis would have stopped what he was chopping - mid-slice - and instead would have finished the coeurl's job for them.

"I've been saving the garulessa meat," Ignis explained, not turning away from his task. "Tonight seems like a good night for prime rib."

Gladio had half a mind to pull Ignis into a giant bear hug, towel be damned. "Iggy, you're the best."

"Well," the other answered, slight smile on his face, "if you won't take a potion, maybe this will help instead."

***

**Lemon Butter Ruin**

"Hmm," he said, his voice deeper than usual, conveying how serious he felt the situation was. "You're hurt."

He couldn't see Gladio shrug his shoulders, or roll his eyes, or how he stood there with a duffle bag in his hand that he was close to dropping on the floor, but Ignis knew. Anytime Gladio went out on his own to help protect the Exineris workers while they established a new pylon, he returned in one of two fashions. The first was to yell out Ignis' name, like a wild Kujata honking to its mate in the wild, regardless of what time it was or who was in the area or if Prompto was staying with them for the weekend. That meant Gladio was happy; that meant things went well and he was barely able to wait the three seconds it took Ignis to reply before he explained the success. Even when he was dead tired, Gladio somehow found the energy.

The other way he returned home meant things had gone south. Someone got hurt. A pylon went down. They lost something important. Or worse. When Gladio tried to sneak back into the apartment, he was always banged up somehow - physically, emotionally, or both.

Gladio sighed. "It's, it's fine Iggy. You don't have to worry about it."

"What happened?" Ignis was already making his way into the tiny kitchen, using his hands to find the edge of the corner and count his way over to the cabinets in the middle. That was where the teapot lived, and what little they had in the way of tea. Gladio was going to protest that they couldn't keep going through their reserves every time Ignis was worried Gladio had gotten banged around a little too much, but Ignis had already won that fight. The water was on the stove and the tea bags were out in cups.

"Hnn, it was a disaster, that's all."

"Gladio."

"Lay off, Iggy, okay? They couldn't get the wiring on the pylon to work and we lost a couple of hunters and I don't want to talk about it."

"Gladiolus."

Gladio rolled his eyes again. There it was - the full name. Now they had crossed the threshold of levity. He wasn't going to be able to move on, in the apartment or the conversation, until he had fully appeased Ignis' concerns. He stood up and walked to where Ignis was still standing in the kitchen, his arms crossed as he leaned his hip into the counter. "It's fine, Iggy. Only souvenir I got was a black eye, 'k?"

"Who did we lose?"

Gladio paused. "Jidoor and Madain."

"Good heavens, he just finished his training a month ago," Ignis replied, quietly. After a pause in the conversation, a moment for both men to even out their breathing and regain the peace of their bubble in the greater world of ruin and fear, he pushed off the counter and held out his hands to find Gladio in the dark. "Does your eye need any ice?"

Gladio couldn't stop the snort that came in response. "You've been hoarding ice without telling me?"

"Nothing of the sort," Ignis replied.

"Then why offer?"

"I didn't offer," Ignis replied, turning his attention to the whistling kettle. "I simply asked a question. Does your eye need ice?"

"Yeah, it could probably stand some. You know, if we could actually keep ice in Lestallum without causing a brown out."

"Pity."

Gladio watched as Ignis used one hand to find the first mug, bringing it to the tip of the kettle with his thumb hooked around inside the lip of the ceramic so that he could judge how much water he had poured. He slowly held the cup out for Gladio to take. 

Gladio breathed it in. "Sorry. Didn't ask - how was your day?"

"It was fine."

"Well that's bullshit."

Ignis kept his unseeing face pointed in a direction away from Gladio, denying him the ability to read any deeper expression there. "We're running out of metal to repurpose and there's a sewage problem in the westernmost district and I may or may not have insulted Mayor Sypert by suggesting that his continued donation of pure junk was as useless in this time as having an Anak calf in a monster fight, but at least no one died."

"Iggy."

"You came home with a black eye and fallen comrades," Ignis reminded him, taking a sip of his tea. "I was left perfectly unscathed, thank you very much."

"It doesn't have to be a competition," Gladio muttered.

Ignis didn't reply. He merely nodded slightly, and then nodded again with more conviction, as if the statement had finally and truly sunk into his heart. He cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, I believe we could both use a little bit of a pick-me-up tonight."

"Yeah," Gladio's smile slunk into a half-smirk. Ignis couldn't see that either, but the suggestion behind that smirk easily penetrated his tone. "Something you have in mind? More than tea?"

"Yes," Ignis answered. "How about trout for dinner?"

"Wait, what the hell? Iggy, you serious?"

"Hmm, yes. It turns out Talcott has taken to fishing during camp whenever he accompanies the Marshall on his visits to Kimya. He brought it to me earlier as a gift." Ignis frowned a bit. "I know you like them skewered over an open flame, but I'm afraid the oven was my only recourse."

Gladio took the mug out of his hands and set both cups on the counter. With their arms both free, he pulled Ignis into his chest and held him close, taking a deep breath, pushing his face into the side of the other's hair. "Like I care," he mumbled. How could he have missed it? Now that he had stopped dreading coming into the apartment, stopped dreading having to tell Ignis about the complete and total failure of his mission, stopped trying to act like life in the darkness in their cramped, hot, stupid little apartment was just fine - now he could smell it clearly as the fish roasted in their small oven. Not just that, but a number of flavors too. Where the hell had Ignis managed to get everything that went with the trout?

It didn't matter. "Hey," he said, turning his face to look the other in his empty open eye. "You gotta stop doing this."

"Stop doing what?"

"You don't have to feed me everytime something sucks or if I have a bad day, you know?"

Ignis smiled. "On the contrary. That is precisely what I intend to keep doing until I'm too old to hold a knife properly."

***

**Childhood Crumbs**

When Ignis was a young boy, he had been presented to the King and to the Crown Prince. He was a smart child, curious and happy to read rather than get into too much mischief. He was able to follow instructions and rules, understanding that things had their place and role in the world. Instead of testing boundaries, he would simply nod and take comfort in finding where he fit into the larger puzzle.

So when the King of all of Lucis, a man he had barely just met, asked him a series of life-altering questions, Ignis spent less time mulling over the consequences of his decisions than he did agreeing to exactly what was asked of him. And it was only until a few weeks later, when his entire life changed, abandoning the only home he had ever known and taking residence in a life and world much more foreign to him than he had expected, that he finally came to realize what part of the puzzle he had agreed to occupy: the loneliest. 

He had interactions with the Prince. The King and all of his staff were very kind. He had even been able to connect with an Uncle whom he had apparently not seen since he was a baby. His new teachers were nice. Overall, the puzzle itself wasn't displeasing.

But he was alone. Hideously, torturously alone. His family was gone. His old teachers, his old friends. His home and his bed and some of his old books. The tree that was planted outside his window that he liked to look at first thing in the morning. It was all gone, and nobody in the Capital seemed to notice or care.

After his math lesson - an accelerated tutoring lesson that matched his achievement level, a very lonely and solitary lesson with just him and a teacher whose name he had trouble pronouncing and whose best praise consisted of a flat hum of approval - Ignis found himself walking alone through the hallways to his new residence. And soon, he found that his legs wouldn't move anymore. He simply stood and could do little more than look at the ground beneath his feet. What was this ground, anyway? Nothing in his home had been this ornate or shiny. 

"Ah there you are."

Ignis raised his head at the sound of the King, quickly coming to his side and turning him around. "I had hoped to catch you after your math lesson," he said, smile full of kindness. "How about a small field trip, Ignis? Consider it a bonus assignment in Civics."

Ignis didn't answer anything in particular. King Regis was already leading him away. He knew he should have said, "Yes, sir." Or at least nodded or hummed or anything instead of ignoring his King. 

Regis quickly led him through the residence hallways and upstairs to the legislative offices. Ignis had been given a cursory tour of that level before, but had no business in the actual working part of the Capital. They passed several closed doors, until Regis came to a halt and knocked on a large wooden frame where the door had been purposely left ajar.

"Clarus, I-"

The man inside, Clarus Amicitia - someone Ignis knew to be very important and vital to the kingdom - stood hastily, giving his liege a slight bow before his face contorted into one of extreme displeasure and redness began to creep up his neck to his ears. "The point of a Shield is to follow you wherever you go, Regis. How in the hell am I supposed to do that if you just run out of the Council Meeting every time I have to pick up my s-"

"I know, I know," Regis waved away. "I only went downstairs."

"Your majesty," Clarus said, slightly through gritted teeth, "even that-"

"Clarus," the King interrupted, pushing the boy forward, "this is Noctis' new retainer, Ignis Scientia."

"Ah," Clarus said, shaking off his annoyance and putting on a more neutral face. "Nice to meet you, son."

"Ignis, this is Clarus Amicitia. He is the current Shield to the throne."

Ignis nodded. He had learned about that - everyone knew that King Regis had a bodyguard that stayed by him thick and thin. In the last few weeks, a few of his teachers had started to lay out the inner workings of the Capital, preparing him to step into his role as seamlessly as possible once he was older.

"Yes," Clarus said, interrupting his thoughts. "Shields are very important, Ignis." He shot a look at Regis. "They never leave their liege's side."

"Come now, Clarus, you don't sleep in my bedroom. You shouldn't say never when you don't mean it. Is Gladio here?"

Clarus pointed to the corner where a boy, slightly older than Ignis, was sitting on a leather couch, his legs swinging impatiently as he waited for his father to finish business for the day and take him home.

Regis pushed him in that direction. "Ignis, this is Gladiolus Amicitia. One day he will be Noctis' Shield, and will work very closely with you."

"In all seriousness, Regis, we need to discuss the contingency plan for the next few months," Clarus said, beckoning him away from the boys. Regis gave one more slight push on Ignis' shoulder to the couch before shifting his focus entirely to the other man.

Ignis did what he inferred he had been instructed to do: he sat down on the couch as well. He didn't say anything, but reached out his hand to greet the other boy. Young Gladio just shrugged, and kept his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

"It won't be a problem, Clarus. You need to take your leave with the new baby, and I'm happy to make myself available so there's no conflict for you."

"This isn't like with Gladio where you can just hang out in the delivery wing again!"

Ignis stopped listening to their conversation and went back to staring at the floor, at his feet, legs too short to reach the ground. This new boy next to him had sneakers on; nothing like the nice dress shoes Ignis had been told to wear on school days. 

It was a new world. No more tree outside his window, or his bed with the dark blue sheets, or his favorite book always at his fingertips on the small table that had been placed near his headboard. Now he lived in a world of leather couches, and arguing officials, and ornate tile. Cold, informal greetings. His new world was sitting alone on a couch that engulfed him and made him feel completely adrift, despite being inside four walls with three people within arm's reach. He had agreed to this world by holding out his hand; he could feel the slight moisture welling up at the side of his eyes as he shoved both of his hands under his legs and hunched over slightly.

"Here."

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of plastic wrap being shoved into his peripheral vision. The other boy - this Gladiolus - was holding it out to him, waiting for him to take it. "They get loud sometimes, it's okay. They actually really like each other."

That wasn't it, he didn't mind the background conversation.

"Take it," Gladio said, pushing the wrapped object at him again. "Mom made it for lunch but I don't like sweets."

Ignis nodded and carefully took the small object, quickly unraveling it to reveal half of a small yellow cake. 

"It's 'shifting' cake, or something."

Ignis wasn't particularly in the mood, but it would be entirely too rude to refuse a gift. He took a small bite. It wasn't overly sweet, that or the other boy had some very strange taste buds. But it was delicious, and before he realized it, Ignis had taken another bite. "Thank you," he said quietly, once he swallowed.

Gladio just shrugged. "You looked sad." He shifted in his seat to turn and get a better look at the other. He smiled. "You look better now." He elbowed Ignis in the side of his arm as he said, "See? Food makes everything better."

Ignis took another bite. Indeed, it did. He held out his hand and, after swallowing again, offered, "Ignis Scientia."

The other boy seemed a bit lost at what to do, and instead of taking his hand, patted him on the shoulder. "Gladio."

A slight smile broke out on Ignis' face, and the room felt a little less wide open and empty. His shoulders felt a little less strained, the air a little less cold. "Thank you for the cake."


End file.
